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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096120">A Warrior's Duty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WangEun/pseuds/WangEun'>WangEun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s01e02 The Avatar Returns, Facing impending death, Gen, He's just a kid it isn't fair, Inner musings of a child soldier, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Sokka doesn't actually die but he thinks he's going to, Someone please protect him</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:20:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WangEun/pseuds/WangEun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sokka is going to die today.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Warrior's Duty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was an impulsive project inspired by a post I saw on Instagram talking about how there was no way Sokka was expecting to win the battle when Zuko first arrived at the SWT. I don't have a link to the original post, however, so if anyone knows who posted it and where to find it, please let me know!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sokka is going to die today.</p><p>He comes to this realization as he’s in the tent preparing himself for a battle he knows is coming. Thanks to Aang and his younger sister, the Fire Nation army will surely be on their way to their little village, a place devoid of peace for much too long now. He wants to find the time to stay angry about their mistake, but time isn’t something he has much of now.</p><p>Dipping his fingers into the black makeup, he spreads the concoction around his eyes, painting himself today not only as a warrior, but as a man. As the oldest male remaining in the Southern Water Tribe, it is his duty to stand tall and stand strong in front of all impending conflict. The fact that he isn’t so tall and that he isn’t so strong is beside the point.</p><p><em> Show no fear</em>, he tells himself, despite how much his soul is shaking. </p><p><em> It’s time to prove yourself as a warrior</em>, he tells himself, despite the little training he’s had. </p><p><em> The whole village is counting on you</em>, he tells himself, despite knowing he’s going to fail them all.</p><p>Grabbing his club, Sokka stands and exits the tent. He positions himself on the wall of ice built by small hands (his own) and looks out at the horizon, determined. Perhaps they won’t come, is what the villagers say. Maybe nobody noticed the light. It’s wishful thinking and Sokka wants none of it—not because the words aren’t comforting, but simply because they are. He can feel the hope enveloping him in the embrace he’s longing for. Instead of a squeeze on the shoulder by his father’s hand, the desperation strangles him. He can feel it tight around his throat and around his chest, choking him, giving him the urge to gasp for breath. It’s dangerous to think positively. It’s dangerous because the positivity makes him want to cry.</p><p>The problem is that men don’t cry. Warriors don’t do things like that. Warriors stand tall, no matter how small, and they keep their expressions stoic and they certainly don’t run into the arms of their grandmothers no matter how much they want to. Only children do things like that and Sokka, at the age of fifteen, is no longer one of those. This might have been different in years past, but the past isn’t here and neither are the other men and so this is just the way things are. </p><p>This is why the boy stands there and waits—</p><p>and waits—</p><p>and waits some more, until the ship is coming straight for him.</p><p>When the ice below him begins to crack, so does Sokka’s brave exterior. The truth is that he’s been dreading this day since the moment his father’s ship left the harbor. On that day, he’d wanted nothing more than to see a ship sailing in the other direction. He’d dream about the day when a ship would dock and his father would wave a hand and say it was a mistake to not bring him along. He’d dream about hearing those four magic words that would take every bit of fear and pain away from him. </p><p><em> The war is over</em>.</p><p>But this ship does not belong to his father and so it is very much not over in the slightest. </p><p>The thing that is over, however, is his life. He knows this because he knows what the Fire Nation is like. They killed his mother in cold blood as she tried to protect her children. He knows they aren’t above destroying innocent lives, no matter how young or how old. If they don’t care about what killing a mother will do to a child, then they certainly won’t care about what killing him would do either. </p><p>In this moment of terror, Sokka can’t dare look at their faces. He doesn’t want to look at his people right now, when they’re standing there behind him shivering with fear and apprehension. They know what the Fire Nation is like too, but they also know what Sokka is like. Deep down, the women know that he is nothing but a little boy playing dress up in a warrior’s costume. And Sokka, who has forgotten all about being a boy, knows that they have no faith in him. It would be hard enough to see the villagers that he cares so deeply about fearing for their lives because of the arrival of these cruel soldiers. It would be even harder to see them fearing for their lives because they know he’s not going to be able to save them from them.</p><p>It’s not the way he wants to remember his family.</p><p>In this moment, he wishes he had someone else to blame for what is about to happen. He doesn’t want their blood on his hands. Not the blood of these women. Not the blood of these children. Not the blood of his grandmother. Especially not the blood of his little sister, the one he swore to always protect. She’s the very reason he’s here. Maybe if the real men hadn’t left them behind like that this wouldn’t be happening. In these last moments, he wants to put the blame on them, if only to not have to die as a failure. Living like one for so long has already hurt him enough.</p><p>If only—</p><p><em> No</em>, he tells himself. <em> That isn’t fair. They had their duty. This is mine.  </em></p><p><em> I’m sorry that I’m not good enough, </em> he tells his people. <em> The spirits will guide us all. </em></p><p><em> I really miss you</em>, he tells his mother. <em> I think I’m going to see you soon</em>.</p><p>And then—with the aching cry of a warrior—the boy raises his weapon high and charges forward into battle, plunging himself into the welcoming embrace of death, all the while thinking "goodbye, goodbye. It is now my turn to leave you behind."</p><p> </p>
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